Volatile Intrigue
by Bonham Squad
Summary: Mrs. Lovett decides to tell Mr. Todd the truth about his estranged wife. He has longed to have his old life back, but once he has it, will he still want it? His whole life has changed, will he change his mind, too? Perhaps he has set his eyes on something else. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Bending Lies

_First chapter, the story is going to get __**much **__more interesting in future chapters. Promise. Thanks for reading, tell me what you think!_

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Leading Sweeney up to the shop, Mrs. Lovett almost felt guilty for letting him believe that his wife was dead, but it was for the best she supposed. Things were much too different for them to try and return to their old life. And if she was being quite honest with herself, Mrs. Lovett didn't want him going back to her. This was her chance, her opportunity for him to finally _see _her.

She looked back at him after reaching the top of the steps and watched for a moment as he lifted his heavy feet one by one. He had changed almost entirely. His face was harder and colder, constantly wearing the same expression. His mouth held a stern line on his face, only a little rosiness stood out against his pale skin. The hair, the clothes, the voice, they were all different.

But one thing she was thankful for remaining unchanged were his eyes. She expected them to be most drastic and unrecognizable, but seeing the dark chocolate brown irises staring off into the distant past almost made her catch her breath. They were the eyes of Benjamin Barker, only there was pain. There was so much more pain in them now.

Mrs. Lovett unlocked the door and led him into the now decaying shop that once belonged to him. He kept very quiet and stood rigid as he inspected the small room. After a few moments, she caught his attention by pulling up a box containing his old razors from underneath the floorboards.

She felt a certain pride of being the person that held a link between Mr. Barker and Mr. Todd. His eyes flashed at the polished silver nostalgically.

"I could have sold them, but I didn't," she stated still proud, but also making sure he understood the hint that she was hoping…waiting for him to return all those years he was gone. It was hard to tell if he caught on or not, but this new Mr. Todd was somewhat difficult to read altogether. He may have been difficult to read, but Mrs. Lovett's feelings for this man appeared to have remained unscathed, her gaze searching longingly for his.

But his was fixed on the smooth, cold razors that he turned carefully in his fingers, perhaps the most important part of who he was left untouched for years.

So he was reunited with his razors. But Mrs. Lovett was hoping for a slightly more eventful reunion between the two of them. However, she didn't want to push anything, so she figured keeping quiet and slightly distant was a good way to handle things. Her mind changed about this tactic when Mr. Todd suddenly told her to leave. She hesitated for a moment before standing up and walking out. After closing the door, she looked through the small window wistfully and headed back down to her ever-empty pie shop.

She started to feel a small pang of guilt for the small lie she told earlier. _But it wasn't a lie, _she told herself. _It was a small withholding of the truth. _She rolled her eyes at herself; of course they were the same thing. Maybe she should just tell him. Just tell him that his wife is alive and mad and living on the street corners begging for alms from strangers. _But I couldn't do that to him, it would be better for him to just leave his old life behind and start anew. It would be for his own good. _

She couldn't believe she was arguing with herself about this. Of course she had to tell him. She was being selfish, and what if he found out? He would be furious with her she was sure.

Looking up at the ceiling, she tried to decide what she was going to tell him. Where she was going to tell him…when she was going to tell him.

_Oh dear, _she thought to herself again. _Well I suppose I should just nick it. No funny business._

Mrs. Lovett focused her attention back to her work, where it did not stay. Her mind kept wandering to the mysterious man the floor above her that she used to know, as she hummed and continued making what were truly known as the worst pies in London.


	2. Blood Spilt and Truth Revealed

Mrs. Lovett was suddenly having second thoughts about letting Sweeney stay and open up shop. Sure, she was expecting him to resent Pirelli a bit for taking over the title as the best barber in London, but she never would have expected to walk back up the stairs to find his dead body in a damned chest.

"You're barking mad!" she exclaimed. If he reacted this violently to something that was only slightly trivial, how was he going to react when she told him about Lucy? When he found out that Mrs. Lovett lied to him before. She started to feel slightly nauseous, picturing him taking one of his polished razors to her neck, or being bludgeoned with a teakettle as the poor Mr. Pirelli had.

But Sweeney explained to her that Pirelli had, in fact, threatened to blackmail him for half his earnings. His anger boiled over and he had mindlessly killed the man currently folded up in a box. Mrs. Lovett's nerves calmed somewhat after Sweeney justified himself. So at least he had some kind of motive…_but he still bloody killed a man!_

. . .

Later, after the judge had gone and Mrs. Lovett had shared her brilliant business venture with Sweeney, she felt a little safer. They were closer now that they decided to be partners, he would be able to freely kill whoever he wanted without worrying about disposing of the bodies, and Mrs. Lovett had a new secret recipe that would hopefully bring in more business.

It was almost perfect. It would have been perfect if Mrs. Lovett didn't still feel a pang of guilt whenever she remembered she had yet to be honest with Mr. Todd. Soon. She would do it soon.

She was in the kitchen mixing, in a large bowl, dough for the pies when Sweeney unexpectedly walked in the door. She was slightly startled since she didn't even hear him come down. She watched him move across the room as she kept mixing.

"Need somethin' Mr. T?" she asked, still not entirely sure why he was down there.

He didn't respond, but rather disappeared into the next room. He returned just as quiet with a new bottle of gin and a glass and sat down at the table. Mrs. Lovett stood there curiously covered with flour and sweat as she stirred the mix cradled in her arm.

"Two more," he finally growled before downing a full glass of gin. She nodded and put down the dough concoction wiping her forehead with back of her hand. She was going to tell him. Now.

"Good," she responded, not entirely sure what to say. One moment she was fine and now she was more nervous than she'd ever been. Her insides were tying knots.

"Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett started, moving around the counter slowly. He didn't respond, he simply shifted in his chair. She stopped in the front of the counter only a few paces away from him and stood with her hands fidgeting in front of her.

"Look, Mr. T, I been meaning to tell you somethin'." Still no response. "It's important, Mr. T." This prompted him to look up from under his brow, his eyes the only thing that moved. At least she managed to catch his interest a little.

"Uuh…well," she started. "Look, it's about what I told you the other day…when you first came in to my shop. About…" she paused. Why was this so hard?"

"About what," he said so quiet it was almost silent. This scared Mrs. Lovett a bit.

"Well, it's about your wife," she blurted. This caused him to snap his head up and furrow his brow, which made him look even more frightening than usual. Very slowly, he sat up in his chair.

"What about my wife," he said just as slow and rough.

"She ain't exactly…I mean I didn't…" she didn't know how to put it delicately._ Oh, will you just get it over with. _ "She's not dead. I'm sorry I lead you to believe she was, I didn't mean to. She's not well."

Sweeney rose from his chair without making a single sound and stood. It was eerie how still he could be. His scowl remained frozen while his arms stayed rigid at his side.

"Mr. T…I'm s-" but his sudden movement cut her off. In what seemed like a fraction of a second, Mr. Todd had pulled out a razor, strode over to where Mrs. Lovett stood, and held it to her throat while keeping a firm grasp on her arm. She closed her eyes and shrunk into him. _Now you bloody well did it, he's gonna kill you. Here and now._

But he didn't. Several moments passed and Mrs. Lovett dared to open her eyes. Sweeney had not moved, but his angry expression changed. It was still stern and hard, but not angry. His eyes moved to hers and she felt her heart jump.

"Show me," he growled.

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_Ooooh, what's gonna happen next? New chapter soon. Reviews are appreciated, thanks for reading!_


	3. A Fate Not of Death

"Of course," Mrs. Lovett managed to squeak out, still waiting for him to slice her neck open. Instead, he loosened his grip on her arm and she slid by him cautiously. Going to get her wrap and his coat, she began to breathe a bit easier only to have her heart race again at the thought of the couple's reunion.

It had only been mere seconds since she told him about Lucy and already he wanted to see her? Obviously he was not thinking of the situation entirely, he didn't know what he was getting into. _Surely convincing him to wait a bit wouldn't hurt. Oh you selfish thing, don't you dare think about it. But he doesn't understand. He understands enough._

Mrs. Lovett's internal arguments were starting to antagonize her; she pushed it out of her head and held out the coat for Sweeney. He didn't move, so with a slight huff, Mrs. Lovett fitted him with his coat and wrapped herself in her shawl before moving to the door.

"Mr. T," she started. He turned to face her. "I feel I should probably warn you-"

"Forget it," he grumbled and stalked to where she was standing. He flung open the door and walked outside, only stopping to wait for her. Trying to remain open minded, she walked outside locking the door behind her, and led the way.

. . .

The had been walking a few blocks in silence, the only sound coming from them were Mrs. Lovett's heels hitting the damp stone. Normally she would be nervous, scared even, to walk the streets of London at night, but she only worried by herself. Even though she wasn't certain Sweeney would try to save or help her, she felt safer with him next to her. He had the face and stature of a man that no one would want to bother. Covertly, she tried to walk a little closer to him, moving barely to her right. He didn't notice, thankfully, and she dared to look out of the corner of her eye, turning her head slightly. He didn't look anxious or scared or distracted, but something told Mrs. Lovett that Sweeney's mind was really moving a mile a minute, as hers often did.

"Mr. T," she tried. Nothing. "Mr. T, I really am sorry. I don't know why I thought-"

"Why did you lie to me?" Sweeney snapped, still focused ahead.

Mrs. Lovett turned her head at his response, bewildered. She wasn't sure if she was more surprised by the question, or the fact that he actually replied. A little flustered, she looked at the ground, focusing her attention on the littered street and cracked stone. She hoped he would just forget it. He didn't, though.

"Why did you lie?" he said again, more forceful. He stopped and pulled her arm back so that she spun to face him. There was no way out, she would have to answer. Mrs. Lovett looked to him, her heart skipping a beat as usual.

"It's just around there," she said flatly, gesturing to the corner at the end of the street behind Sweeney. He remained focused on her for a moment, but then turned to look over his shoulder. After looking back at her, he spun on his heel and strode around the building at the corner, Mrs. Lovett following, trying to keep up.

They rounded the corner, seeing a few passers-by making their way home from a late night at work. Sweeney slowly made his way down the sidewalk, eyes surveying the area, not entirely sure what he was looking for. His steps slowed gradually, eventually stopping altogether, hopelessness seeping in. Would she even want him? His worries started to kick in, realizing he hadn't really thought much of it through. What would he say to her? What was he expecting to happen?

"Over there," he heard from behind. He looked to Mrs. Lovett, who had her eyes on something ahead. Looking in the general direction, he saw nothing of interest.

"Where?"

"There," she said. He didn't move. "Oh for goodness…"

Mrs. Lovett took his arm and led him farther up the sidewalk until they reached a dim streetlight.

"Over across the way," she said quietly. He looked to the building, a clothing store. Confused, he tried to see if someone was inside, but it was clear the establishment was closed. What was she pulling?

Mrs. Lovett noticed his line of sight and bumped his shoulder.

"Not there. _There_," she nodded her head in the right direction. Sweeney directed his attention on a haggard looking woman, holding her hands out to strangers passing by. Her dress was worn and filthy, barely resembling clothing. She wore no shoes; her feet caked in mud and anything else she had been walking in. He wasn't able to see her face; she was wearing what looked like a hat, which covered most of the stringy hair that was unevenly chopped below her shoulders.

"Alms, alms!" he could here her say. He was horrified and enraged. This damned pie lady had the audacity to bring him to a squalid, grotesque beggar woman instead of his wife. He began to back away before Mrs. Lovett caught him, this time her being the forceful hand.

"It's her, love. _This_ is why," she stated calmly, answering his earlier question. He looked on, repulsed. For the first time, Mrs. Lovett watched his face morph into something other than anger or indifference, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Suddenly, but very slowly, Sweeney began making his way across the street to the woman, Mrs. Lovett tailing him closely. He stopped beside her and she turned, shaking hands held out in front of her chest.

"Alms, sir? Alms for a miserable woman?" she begged. She almost smelled worse than she looked, the musk about her attracting flies and other unpleasant creatures. Sweeney looked down at her as she trembled before him from the cold.

"Lucy," he said quietly. She didn't react in any way; she still stood there with her hands out. His eyebrows furrowed a bit.

"Lucy?" a bit quieter. There was some desperation in his voice this time.

"Please sir, pity a miserable woman. Alms, alms!" she stepped forward to which both Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett took a step back. He remained there until Mrs. Lovett finally pulled out a penny and gave it to her, watching Sweeney carefully.

"Oh, thank you mum. Thank you," she spat in a tone she thought was gracious, but sounded just as mad as before. Sweeney watched her walk away from them down the darkening street with a strange look on his face. He looked…sad.

This is exactly what Mrs. Lovett was worried about, that something like this would happen. Lucy didn't even recognize him.

Sweeney hadn't even thought of the possibilities, especially not this one. His wife was gone. The worst part was that he knew it was her, so he couldn't even pretend that it wasn't. Her eyes, the shape of her mouth, the curve of her jaw, they were all the same. But she was gone…his Lucy was gone.

Maybe she _would_ have been better off dead.

Mrs. Lovett took his arm to lead him away and held it all the way home.

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_Thank you for the lovely reviews, I'm glad people are enjoying it! Sorry it's been a couple days, I'll try to update it more frequently. Thanks!_


	4. Not While She's Around

She watched as he drank. It had been like that since they got home a few hours ago. Mrs. Lovett stood behind her counter kneading some dough with a concerned look focused on Sweeney, who was sitting at the table by the front door. Everything was unearthly silent. She was about to say something, but restrained herself when she remembered the last few times she tried to talk to him. He would either ignore her or try to kill her, and Mrs. Lovett was not in the mood to be thrown around like a rag doll, because goodness knows he could do whatever the bloody hell he wanted with her.

Instead she continued working the dough while keeping a close eye on Sweeney, who was having a hard time keeping his head up and his eyes open.

After sprinkling some flour on the counter, she wielded her rolling pin and began rolling the dough out flat to cut out the piecrusts. Sweeney tried to pour himself another drink, but to no avail when he realized the bottle was empty. Furious, he stood and chucked the bottle at the wall to the right of Mrs. Lovett, who jumped back clutching her chest and thought she would have a heart attack. She stared in disbelief at the shattered bottle, then swung a look to Sweeney who was no longer facing her.

"You bloody idiot! What the hell are you thinkin' throwin' bottles and what not, scarin' me half to death? I could call you in, I could," Mrs. Lovett went on as she began cleaning up the mess of broken glass.

"It'll be your 'ead if any o' that glass landed in me pies."

Sweeney was over by the door, one hand to steady himself on the doorjamb, the other at his forehead, squeezing his temples. As Mrs. Lovett continued her ranting, he drowned her out. Not that he needed to try hard; the alcohol was doing a good enough job on its own. He thought about Lucy, the way she was before everything went wrong. Her long golden hair draped over his shoulder as he read a book by the fire. The way she smelled after returning from the flower market, drenched in the sweet nectars of daisies and tulips. He remembered the suppleness of her skin when he wiped away her tears and how beautiful she was even when she was upset. How her body fit his like they were made for the other, melted to a hot liquid and formed together in the same mold. The nights they didn't get any sleep…

But the dream was abruptly over when her face began to change. It reshaped itself into that of a monster, a face of disease and death. The hands of a skeleton, raised in front of her, begging-

"Mr. T?" he heard behind him, making him jump and spin around a little too fast. He lost his balance and nearly fell over, but Mrs. Lovett caught his limp body with some effort.

"Oof, Mr. T, you alright?" she managed to get out as she struggled to get him standing again, to no avail, so she half dragged him over to the couch in the living room. She basically tossed him into the cushions as she breathed heavily for a few seconds, assessing the drunkard.

"For goodness sake, look at you," he was slumped over the arm, not even trying to keep himself up. "Look Mr. T, I know you loved her and everything. I tried to tell ya. She's gone, love…there's no help for her now," Mrs. Lovett kneeled before him, touching his knee lightly. He looked down at her hand and then to her face, still stricken with the expression that didn't seem to fit him.

Then quite unexpectedly, she witnessed something she never would have expected from him in any lifetime. A strange moisture started to build up in his eyes as he moved his stare from her to the fire, which reflected tiny flames in his dampening eyes. Mrs. Lovett looked on curiously, not entirely sure what to think. Just then, a small droplet escaped the small pooling and made its way down his face, leaving a small streak on his colorless cheek.

It took her a moment to realize that this stony man before her was crying, but she soon took on the role of comforter and swiftly moved from the floor to the seat next to him. Adjusting his weight, she pulled him from the side of the couch and over next to her. She laid his head on her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him, pulling Sweeney close.

After a moment, she felt him move. His arms slid around her and held her waist loosely. She felt another tear drop onto her chest and Sweeney's breathing expanding and shrinking his body under her arms. She tried to keep her heart from beating too fast as well as keep herself from crying along with him.

"Don't you worry, love. That's it, it's alright," she comforted with a soothing voice.

"I'm right here. Nothing's gonna harm you here."

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_This felt a little short to me, so I'll try to make the next one a little longer (it's about to get __**good**__). Again, thank you for your kind words! Stay tuned._


	5. Return

Sweeney woke up on the couch, just as the sun started to emerge through the window. He felt groggy and miserable, topped off with an aching head that pounded against his skull. The fire had died sometime in the night, save for a few very small smoldering coals, hanging on to the heat desperately before they meet the same fate.

He very carefully sat up, the shift proving to be an unwise idea when his head throbbed even more. Grabbing his forehead with one hand to press on his temples and shield his eyes from he light, he managed to stand as well. Sweeney stood for a minute, meaning to get his bearings before moving any more. Slowly, he started to move to the next room where he could hear Mrs. Lovett clattering around, preparing something.

Not wanting to show any discomfort or weakness, he entered the room normally aside from the uncharacteristically sedated strides and every muscle in his body being clenched from the pain.

Walking in, he saw a lovely banquet of food laid out on the table accompanied with a sigh inducing aroma. How long had she been up? It must've taken hours to make. There were eggs and bacon, along with fresh still steaming bread and butter. Next to that there was a plate piled with juicy sausage and two pitchers of orange juice and milk. The feast was decorated with a centerpiece of pink hydrangea flowers and a few hand-stitched tablemats. He couldn't believe his eyes. Or his nose; the savory smells of the sausages melded perfectly with the warm scent of bread and herbs that were cooked with the eggs. The young boy, Toby, was already stuffing his face with anything he could get his hands on, not entirely bothering with the plate in front of him.

Mrs. Lovett turned and stood from the oven with a freshly made batch of pies and saw Sweeney standing just past the threshold of the other room.

"Oh! Good mornin', love. Fancy any breakfast? More like a right feast ain't it?" she laughed a bit, causing Sweeney to wince a bit at the pain the noise caused. She quickly reverted by shutting her mouth and looking at him apologetically.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. T, I really am," she almost whispered, stifling a giggle. "That must be one 'ell of an ache ya got there."

She placed the hot tray of pies on the table and went over to guide him carefully.

"Now, you just sit down and pick out whatever you want, yeah? I'll make you some tea for that Irish flu you got there," she patted his shoulder very lightly and gave him a wink as he sat down.

Making her way back to the kitchen, she started to prepare his tea, being superfluously careful not to clatter any of the tea set together.

"My mum's secret recipe of herbs and what not. Used to use this all the time whenever my father came home…you know," she said, refraining from saying anything "too grown up" around Toby. Not that he paid any attention to it, seeing as he was to busy shoveling food into his stomach.

"Works miracles on all kinds of maladies; mostly aches and small pains. Doesn't do much for broken bones or the scarlet fever, but there's just something about a nice hot cup of lovely tea that makes ya feel warm inside," she blabbered, her mouth running on as usual until the tea was ready.

She carried the tray over to the table and just managed to fit it at a small open space at the corner. Toby had gone to see his friends minutes earlier and once again Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett were left alone. She prepared a cup for him cheerfully and began piling food on his plate when she saw he hadn't touched any of it.

"Go on! Eat up; it'll help ya feel better, promise. And drink your tea, unless you wanna walk around all day with a beating inside your skull," she had served herself a decent amount and began taking small bites from each platter.

Sweeney did as he was told and sipped obediently on his cup of tea, the warmth spreading throughout his aching body.

She eyed him, caringly and finished a bite before speaking again.

"Listen, Mr. T. About last night…"

He looked straight ahead unwavering, but on the inside he was a little worried. He couldn't remember anything after they returned home. After they saw Lucy. He was hoping he didn't do anything he'd regret.

"Well I just…I didn't know…Oh god, listen to me. Goin' on like a fool!" she looked down at her plate, bringing one elbow up on the table to support her head in her hand. Sweeney turned his head slightly to her, looking out from under his brow, slightly confused. Mrs. Lovett caught his stare and the smile was erased from her expression, now one of understanding.

"Oh…you don't…" she started. "You don't remember do you?"

He looked back to his tea. She took that as a yes, slightly disappointed.

"Oh." Mrs., Lovett's upbeat tone reappeared suddenly, "Well, it's nothing to worry about or dwell on, dearie. Just broke a bottle on the wall, but you didn't know what you was doin'. Just took yourself to the livin' area and fell asleep on the couch."

She'd done it again. She lied straight to his face. Fidgeting in her seat at the thought, Mrs. Lovett started to clean everything up.

"Well if you're done here, I'll just put everything away so it doesn't spoil. Get this place cleaned up."

As she set herself straight to work, Sweeney noticed he was already feeling better. He was no longer dizzy, his head was clear and ache free, and the light and noise no longer bothered him. Taking his cup with him, Sweeney went out the door and up to his shop for the day.

Almost relieved that he was gone, Mrs. Lovett relaxed and sat down back at the table, chastising herself for telling yet another lie. _Oh, it's not that important anyway. What's it to 'im if he doesn't remember last night. Nothin' happened._

She sipped her tea and went back to work, cleaning the room 'till it was spotless.

. . .

Later that night, when both Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett closed shop and Toby had fallen asleep, it was Mrs. Lovett this time who decided to have a drink. She didn't intend to wind up like Sweeney did last night, but just to wind down from the day. Her feet and back ached from standing and baking and cleaning all day, not to mention all the work she did in the bake house. She sat at the table, reading a paper.

Sweeney walked in and saw her look up in his direction.

"Hello, love. Come on, why don't you join me. Just take it easy a bit, won't you?" Mrs. Lovett said as she stood to get another glass for him.

He sat and she poured him some gin from a new bottle, and then returned to her paper.

"Thank you," he said.

"'Course, Mr. T," she smiled, imagining things changing; getting better. Maybe this was it, her chance at a life with him. The life she had always dreamed of. He would come down after a day's work and greet her with a kiss, a thought that made her shudder with joy. They would have dinner together, like a proper family. They would go to bed together, like a proper couple. Everything would be wonderfully and exactly as she imagined it.

Her fantasy was cut short, however, by a tapping on the glass pane of the front door. Mrs. Lovett twisted her neck around and Sweeney looked up as well, neither expecting what they saw. He stood immediately, not entirely sure what his plan was. He stomach turned and she stood as well, not moving any further than that.

Sweeney moved to unlock the door and turned the handle slowly, watching the guest outside. Once it opened, a fresh breeze rolled in, seemingly silencing everything in the room. He stood there for a moment.

"Lucy?" he managed, confused.

The beggar woman stood before him, somewhat cleaner than before. All the mud had disappeared from her feet and face. It seemed as though she changed, as though some part of her had returned, her face particularly. Mrs. Lovett became very anxious as she watched them.

"Ben-…Benjamin?" the woman responded. She even sounded different. What had happened to her?

Sweeney reached out a hand, which she looked at lovingly, and then took it. He began to pull her in, but before they had reached each other, she lunged forward and caught his torso in a desperate embrace. He was slightly startled at first, as well as Mrs. Lovett, but eventually put his arms around her shoulders, landing on her back since she was relatively shorter than him.

"Oh, how I missed you Benjamin."

Mrs. Lovett's eyes were incredulous as she watched them hug each other. The disbelief soon turned to sadness as she realized what this revelation would mean.

She had once again lost out to Benjamin Barker's first true love.

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_*Gasp* Plot twist! I made this one longer just because...update coming soon!_


	6. Playing Caretaker

_Just to clarify, Lucy did not suddenly become sane. She merely regained her memory from when she was with Sweeney/Benjamin, she's still pretty ill. Anyway, next chapter!_

* * *

The longer she stood there, the tenser Mrs. Lovett became. She was unsure of what to do or what to say for the first time in a long time. How did this even happen?

Sweeney broke the embrace and held Lucy by the shoulders; she moved her hands to his forearms, being the first to speak.

"You've changed," her voice was still shaky and mad, but her face had transformed, her eyes were no longer crazy. They held the newfound memories of her past.

"So have you," Sweeney stated back to her. Mrs. Lovett had secretly hoped that they would be too different to return to the way things used to be. Obviously nothing would be the same. Not wanting to be left out of anything per usual, Mrs. Lovett stepped in and put her arm around Lucy with a warm expression but in actuality felt extremely annoyed by the gesture.

"Well come in then, love or we'll all catch a chill. You sit down there, I'll make us all a nice hot cup of tea," she said and set to work. Sweeney closed the door and sat across from Lucy at the table. Silence immediately fell on the room, neither knowing what to say to the other, the only sound being the clattering tea set. They looked at each other and Lucy gave a small tug of her lips. Mrs. Lovett still thought she was demented, but apparently Sweeney didn't mind having a completely mental wife.

He shifted somewhat uneasily in his seat.

"What happened…. after…." he implied. She looked down at the wood grain on the table as though it were suddenly the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. Mrs. Lovett cleared her throat from the counter to get Sweeney's attention, which it did; he twisted his posture to look back at her.

"I already told you, love. Remember?" she barely whispered, almost inaudible. Sweeney looked at her through his dark brow then stood and walked to her, separated by the messy counter.

"But you lied to me," he grumbled. Lucy remained frozen at the table.

"Everything I told you, I swear, was the truth. I only…left out a small bit," she defended. Sweeney seemed only slightly satisfied with this answer and turned when Lucy started coughing uncontrollably.

"Oh dear, the poor thing," Mrs. Lovett said, somewhat biting. Thankfully Sweeney nor Lucy seemed to pick up on her sarcasm. He went to her to make sure she was okay.

"Call for the doctor," Sweeney ordered, helping Lucy stand and started to lead her to the stairs that led to his room. Mrs. Lovett's envy flared and she immediately tried to dissuade him, walking to where they stood.

"Oh, but Mr. T, it's awful late ain't it. We best wait till tom-"

"Call for the doctor," he said again, this time much more forceful so as to make Mrs. Lovett stop in her tracks. He started to ascend the stairs with Lucy, guiding her carefully as her coughing fit persisted.

"Yes, Mr. T," she said solemnly.

. . .

"I think I'd better come back a few times a week to treat her. She has the influenza and a bad case of bronchitis," the doctor told Mrs. Lovett.

"Oh dear," she said, concerned for the safety of the rest of the house, especially Toby who, being young, was still susceptible to many illnesses. She would make a note to tell him to stay away from the woman.

"Er…I think I may bring along Dr. Schultz, as well," he said quietly, leaning in. "He specializes in psychiatric help."

Sweeney stepped in then just as the doctor finished his sentence causing him to immediately straighten up.

"Ah yes, now…Mrs. Lovett make sure she takes these three times a day…" he handed her a small bottle of pills, "…and these twice a day. No alcohol or dairy and plenty of rest and water. She should only be out of that bed for necessary reasons, and try not to disturb her too much," he instructed.

"Thank you very much Dr. Bagley," Mrs. Lovett smiled while Sweeney stood behind her staying silent as usual. The doctor nodded to him, and became obviously uneasy when Sweeney merely glowered at him.

"Uh…yes. I'll see you in a couple days," said Dr. Bagley, and he was out the door.

"Such a nice man," Mrs. Lovett watched him go then made her way back to the kitchen. Sweeney caught her elbow and she looked back perplexed. He held out his hand.

"Give them to me," he ordered.

"I've had enough of these demands, Mr. T. Look, you're stayin in my home, _my _business. So the authoritative voice you have there's gonna have to st-"

"Give me the-"

"No! Mr. T, don't you eva listen to a word I say? I will be in charge of her medicine, the doctor told me. And for the last time, will you _stop…_" she shook her arm loose from his grasp "…tellin' me what to do!"

Sweeney looked puzzled and angry, but couldn't come up with a fair argument in return. So he stomped off to his room like a young child while Mrs. Lovett stood feeling empowered and a bit smug.

"Don't you go wakin' her up. Let her be," she ordered up the stairs.

Later, when she took up Lucy's supper, Mrs. Lovett saw that Sweeney indeed wasn't bothering her. Rather, her was sitting in a chair quietly in the corner of the room while Lucy occupied the bed. She couldn't believe she was actually going to let her stay with them. In _her _house. While _she _took care of her. Lucy stirred a bit, prompting Sweeney to sit up and watch her protectively.

"Hungry, love?" Mrs. Lovett asked, softly. She brought the tray of food to her and set it on her lap as Lucy sat up.

"Th-thank you, mum," she responded quietly.

Mrs. Lovett reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the pill bottles, dispensing a couple small tablets into her palm.

"Here you go, take these and eat up as much as you can," she handed Lucy the medicine and a glass of water while Sweeney watched her, interested.

Once she swallowed the pills and started to pick at her food, Mrs. Lovett rose from the side of the bed and started downstairs. Once she was back in the kitchen, she heard someone else follow down the steps. He stood and looked at her in the doorway as she looked around, expectantly waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she merely returned to cleaning up her workspace.

Sweeney finally moved over to her and walked behind the counter, an action that astonished Mrs. Lovett, but wasn't nearly as astonishing as what he did then. He reached out his arms and put them around her, unsure. Then clutched her awkwardly. She wasn't sure why he was doing it, but she lifted her arms to rest her hands on his back. Noticing her heart was starting to race again, she broke the bizarre hug reluctantly and grinned a little before picking up dishes and brushing away crumbs from the countertop.

Sweeney turned left rigidly, stalking back up the stairs. Mrs. Lovett smiled to herself and felt the echo of the embrace in her arms.

Perhaps she _would_ send Lucy off to Bedlam.


	7. Will Return Shortly!

_Hi there, I know I'm not supposed to post author notes as individual chapters, buuuut I feel like I should explain to you guys why I haven't been updating. First of all, I'd like to apologize to anyone who has been patiently waiting for an update. I have had an unfortunately eventful couple of months and am currently invested in several different projects. I'm not quitting this fic, but I'm working on a few more and doing two at a time is much easier than doing 4 or 5 at a time. So eventually I will get back to this one, it'll just be easier once the workload isn't as heavy. Postponing some of these projects is not something I want to do, I wish I could sit and work on them all day, but believe it or not I do have a life, and I recently have had a bit of very large news come my way and I am also trying to deal with that._

_Whew! Okay I think that's it. I just want to thank everyone who is reading and commenting their lovely thoughts! I feel horrible for keeping you hanging this long, but I finally decided to do something about it, so thanks. Just hang in there because I will get back to this eventually (hopefully sooner than later), promise!_

_Thanks everyone, see you soon!_

_-Meg_


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